Heaven for Everyone

October and November are times to honor the blessed dead, and the first Blessed One I'd like to honor is Ray Bradbury.

The first sci fi book I ever read was War of the Worlds, and the second was the Martian Chronicles. Reading these books marked a turning point in my life, and fundamentally helped to create who I am. I wrote my senior paper on Bradbury, and he came up often in college papers, too. Regretfully, I haven't read a lot of his more contemporary writings, but I've read a whole lot of his sci fi short stories.

He's one of my favorite people ever, and one of my favorite writers (the others including Neil Gaiman and Frank Herbert). Bradbury's writing is beautiful, tragic, inspiring, amazing. He crafted worlds and stories and places and things that are unforgettable. Even the most alien of his subjects is familiar. He had a gift of looking into people's hearts and writing what was to be found there.

When he died this past spring, I cried. I had had a terrible day at work. I was probably sick. I was anxious. I was depressed. It was one of those days when everything that could go wrong, went wrong. So after a terrible morning behind the bar, I sat down at my desk and read the headline.

And I cried.

And I was so angry because I was so busy and so behind that day, I couldn't properly mourn him. The tears came but I had to fight them back because how could I say "I can't go to the bank today. My favorite writer died." or "I can't go to this meeting because this author who was very old passed away."

I cried on my way home from work, and sometimes I still get teary-eyed when I think about Ray Bradbury and his passing. I have not yet properly mourned this man who was like an uncle to me - far away and distant, yes, but still influential. Still familiar.

Last October I read a lot of horror and scary literature, which included re-reading a lot of Bradbury (Something Wicked This Way Comes, The October Country, and other short stories). Nothing captures October so well as Something Wicked This Way Comes. Just open your eyes. You'll find them, the October People. They're there. Doing their October thing. They come out every year.

I found a cheap copy of The Halloween Tree, so I put away a book club read and started reading this Bradbury Classic.

Where has The Halloween Tree been all my life? Truthfully, I've been too busy reading everything else by him to find time for this one, but since it's probably the only book I'll be reading all month (despite having both Rosemary's Baby and the Stepford Wives waiting on my bookshelf) nothing could be more appropriate.

Bradbury tells the story of Halloween perfectly, with all of its myth and magic. No words of mine can do him justice, so here he goes in one particularly memorable section:

A dark creature struck the sun one dreadful blow.
The sun died. It's fires went out.
The boys ran blind in darkness.
Yeah, thought Tom, running, sure, I mean, I think, every night, the sun dies. Going to sleep, I wonder, will it come back? Tomorrow morning, will it still be dead?
The boys ran. On new pillars dead-ahead, the sun appeared again, burning out an eclipse.
Swell! thought Tom. That's it! Sunrise!
But just as quickly, the sun was murdered again. On each pillar they raced by, the sun died in autumn and was buried in cold winter. 
Middle of December, thought Tom, I often think: the sun'll never come back! Winter will go on forever! This time the sun is really dead!
But as the boys slowed at the end of the long corridor, the sun was reborn. Spring arrived with golden horns. Light filled the corridor with pure fire.
The strange God stood burning on every wall, his face a grand fire of triumph, wrapped in golden ribbons.
"Why, heck, I know who that is," panted Henry-Hank. "Saw him in a movie once with terrible Egyptian mummies!"
"Osiris!" said Tom.
"Yessss....." hissed Moundshroud's voice from the deep tombs. "Lesson Number One about Halloween. Osiris, Son of the Earth and Sky, killed each night by his brother Darkness. Osiris slain by Autumn, murdered by his own night blood.
"So it goes in every country, boys. Each has its death festival, having to do with seasons. Skulls and bones, boys, skeletons and ghosts. In Egypt, lads, see the Death of Osiris, King of the Dead. Gaze long."

So we drink a toast to you, Uncle Ray. Thank you for the books and the words and the worlds and the memories and dreams. Thank you, unendingly, for the inspiration. I always wanted to write you a letter, and I never did. I'll always regret that. Twenty years I had the chance and I never took it. So, this season, I drink to you. I write for you. I read for you.

You are among my honored dead.

All Dead, All Dead

October is a special month. We re-adjust to our new work and school schedules. Though the weather might still be uncomfortably warm (like right now in North Carolina!) it starts to vary up between hot, cold, muggy, crisp, perfect, bright, lovely, wonderful. Everything becomes pumpkin flavored and colored. (Steve and I had the most amazing pumpkin custard at Goodberry's this week. Pumpkin, waffle cone, whipped cream, pecans and caramel. Oh yum.)

There are parties and decorations and costumes and concerts and community events. Maybe, just maybe, people have more fun in October than any other month of the year.

Maybe this draw to fun, parties, and community comes from a primal need for us to all come together this time of year. Mother Nature is giving one last push of her bounty before the winter season finally settles over the land. And then that's it. And that's pretty scary, and maybe we need one another to cope, to remind ourselves "no, we're not dead yet! look, we live!"

October in all of its beauty is a season of inevitable change. It reminds us that in order for something to be so amazingly fun and awesome, it can't last forever. All things are created and all things are destroyed. October in all of its bright colors and festivities dances on the edge of life and death.

Some Catholics celebrate All Souls Day and All Saints Day as a way to honor the blessed dead. For the ancient Celtic and other European tribes, this time of year was the time to bring in the last of the harvest and to prepare for a long, cold winder. Herds were culled down and farmers were forced to decide which animals would live through the winter and which ones would not. This practice gives us one folk name of October's full moon - the Blood Moon.

So, for all of our celebration, for all of our fun and candy, October is a time for us to come together as a community, to cling to one another as if it's a matter of life or death because maybe it really is.

Because yes, October is fun. But sometimes the winter is not. And yes, we're alive now. But nature is dying, and we are, too.

October is a time to embrace our lives. It is a time of community and harvest, and of death and shadows. We are confronted with the glory of life and death every hour and every minute of October. The pumpkins shine like giant golden moons. The leaves in many places are still green, but in others they are red, yellow, brown.

In our modern world it's hard to imagine having to slaughter animals and make choices of life and death for the winter. We can just go to the grocery store and buy fruits and vegetables and bacon and just forget all about it. But for a few moments, imagine your ancestors. Imagine how they felt about the change in the season, from summer to autumn, and then to the dark, cold winter. Think about the fear of the unknown they must have felt, the certainty of death within their lives

October teaches us to not be afraid when confronted with our own mortality. Yes, we're alive. Yes, we'll die. Life and death are both gifts. And in October, celebrate. Eat, drink and be merry because the seasons are changing, because tomorrow we, or someone we love, might die. Follow your primal urges in October to make the most of this month and this season.

Watch scary movies. Listen to gothic music. Wear black. Decorate your house in skeletons and skulls. Tell stories of your blessed dead. Toast to the ancestors. Go to parties. Stay up late. Don't get enough sleep. Drink too much. Eat apples and bacon. Look at a pomegranate. Carve a pumpkin. Snack on the seeds. Wear a costume. Spook yourself out. Take a walk. Smell some dirt.

Do not hide from the shadow or death. Confront it. Laugh at it. Laugh with it.

Because, like all of nature, we will die. We will be taken in. But next season, we will be reborn.